


eyes for the stars

by handsoap



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Bad Jokes, M/M, Post-Recall, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsoap/pseuds/handsoap
Summary: “Well, you know me. Jesse McCree. Desecrator of old photos, savior of ramen shops, at your service.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Love knows not distance; it hath no continent; its eyes are for the stars, its feet for the swords; it continueth, though an army lay waste the pasture; it comforteth when there are no medicines; it hath the relish of manna; and by it do men live in the desert.
> 
> —Gilbert Parker, “The White Omen”

McCree stares at his communicator, tossing it between his palms. It had been around a week since the launch of the Overwatch recall initiative. He’d been contemplating on throwing the old thing away, so he got startled when it started beeping. He’d always been a tad bit sentimental so he always decided against trashing it. Besides, what harm could it have done? Overwatch activities might have been illegal but being a former agent wasn’t.

The recall thing was a different question, though. But hey, when had the legality of things stopped him from doing them? He was Jesse McCree, natural born outlaw, rebel at heart. What’s breaking a few laws to doing good and saving lives. Some people might concur but vigilantism is loads better than what he’d been doing in the past.

Plus, he’s not even sure if he’s willing to join the good ol’ team. Not yet, anyways. There are some things he has to know before he joins up.

That’s why he’s here. Back at the base in Gibraltar. He hadn’t been stationed here often but the view of the sunset here has always been immaculate. Glad to know that some things haven’t changed.

He’s walking towards one of the entrances, eerily unnerved by the lack of  _ anything _ . Surely he’s tripped a few alarms here and there, but he feels nothing. No feeling of eyes on him. No sounds of muted footsteps or rustling of clothes or weapons loading. Nothing but the sound of seagulls flying around, the calming swish of the ocean and the clinks of his spurs. He’s only here because he guessed Winston’s message came from Gibraltar based on the background and he’s not so sure now. The area seems completely abandoned.

_ Seems _ .

Overwatch may have officially been disbanded but there would be no way in hell a former base would be left alone without any sort of protection. That’s why he’s on high alert. Hand hovering above his gun, ready to draw it within a single breath.

He’s only got a foot inside the base when he feels someone’s presence behind him. He whips his gun out and turns around, quick as humanly possible but the presence is already gone. Another moment later, the shadow’s at his back again, laughing unabashedly. The realization hits him quicker than lightning.

“Well if it ain’t our lovely Tracer. How’s the years been treatin’ ya, Lena?” He says, tipping his hat as he shoves his gun back in its holster, a little bit overwhelmed at seeing a familiar face.

Tracer zips around him, probably sizing him up, laughing some more before stopping in front of him with a wide grin. “Not bad but better than how it treated you, at least.” she quips. McCree finds himself laughing loudly at that.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to counter that,” he gestures at himself. “I’ve certainly let myself go quite a bit.”

Tracer giggles, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Aw, c’mon McCree. No need to be like that. Your pretty boy charm might be gone but you’ve got a new, ruggedly handsome look going for you now.”

“Shucks, Lena. You haven’t changed one bit.” he says fondly and Tracer returns his look with a small, oddly sheepish smile.

“Now then, you’re here for the recall, right? Let’s get you to Winston.” she says as he starts pushing at his back. He refuses to budge though, opting instead to scratch at his cheek.

“Well, I ain’t really  _ here _ for recall, exactly.” when Tracer looks at him in confusion tinged with the slightest hint of betrayal, he quickly adds, “But it’s related to it. I’m thinkin’ of joining the old crew but there are things I gotta ask first.”

Tracer starts pushing him with renewed vigor. “Then let’s get going, love. Hope Winston has the right answers for ya.”

  


-

  


When he finally gets to asking Winston about  _ the thing _ , Winston goes through three stages of staring at him. The first was just blind, incredulous judging. The second was knowing understanding. The last was just a downright annoying smirk paired stare that was a mixture of the first two.

“Well, about that…” he begins dramatically, typing at his computer and bringing up a projection of a globe. “Despite the tracker being on the agent themselves, tracking an agent’s exact location is pretty difficult, especially now that Overwatch is still legally dead.”

McCree hums. “So, what you’re saying’ is that you can’t find him?”

Winston grins at him. “Oh I’ve found him… when I activated the recall, that is. Shortly after, his signal all but died out.”

McCree pats him on the shoulder. “Good enough for me, where was he at?”

  


-

  


McCree finds himself in Kathmandu, preparing for his trip to the Shambali Monastery up in the Himalayas. He has no idea how to find said monastery but well, it’s his only clue and he’s pretty desperate. He’s not really sure why he’s so intent on looking for someone he’s had virtually no contact with for around half a decade but he is and he would feel even dumber not to take the chance.

Winston has sent him coordinates on the general area where Genji was last tracked and he takes the 5 exhausting rides to the middle of nowhere that would lead to, hopefully, where Genji is.

There are just about two handfuls of people in the small rest stop and all of them barely give him a second glance. There are, however, some people who look like they're also looking for the elusive monastery, too bad they're too busy huddling up for warmth to speak with him so he goes on his (not so) merry way.

The weather wasn’t half bad, then again, he’s not so high up yet and it’s still pretty early in the day. The people from Kathmandu have told him it could (would) go below 20 higher up and he hopes to whatever deity that it wouldn’t get that cold. (He remembers the huddling hikers and doubted the thought) They all gave him a look when he’d insisted on wearing his usual outfit up the mountains until he gave in and put on a bunch of jackets under his serape, looking back at it now, he’s thankful for the decision. It’d been toasty back in Gibraltar and before then, he’d been stuck in Indiana where the temperature was just the right side of cool.

After some few hours of hiking, he’s starting to rethink his decision to go up in the Himalayas alone. He wasn’t too fond of company, sure, but walking aimlessly up in the mountains wasn’t exactly the most fun of events. He’s just about to fire up the communicator to go bother Winston or Tracer when he spots something unusually shiny in the distance. The sun is starting to set and it’d probably be a good idea to at least check if the light came from something, well, human. Friendly or not, it’d be better to deal with it now than later.

He sets his hand to hover just above Peacekeeper as he stalks towards the direction of the glint. It takes him a few steps and a little oddly angled climb until he finds the whatever it was looking for. It wasn’t a human but an omnic. An omnic that was sitting? Meditating? With both feet touching while, wait for it, floating in air. He looked like a monk which meant good news for him.

“Hey, uh, sorry to be botherin’ you like this but you wouldn’t happen to be from the Shambali, would ya?” he asks when the omnic just… floats there.

The omnic turns around, blank face staring(?) right at him. “I am no longer part of the Shambali but if you are looking for the monastery, I could perhaps guide you there,” the omnic pauses, and without really altering his tone, his voice speaks clearly of an underlying threat. “It depends, of course, on your purpose there.”

McCree swallows and scratches at his head, almost sending his hat flying in the wind. “I don’t have any untoward intentions in lookin’ for the place. I’m just a wayward cowboy, lookin’ for an old friend. Y’see, last I heard he was up here in the mountains.”

The omnic tilts his head. “This friend of yours… is it Genji Shimada?”

And he just hit the jackpot, the omnic  _ knows _ Genji. He nods enthusiastically. The omnic just clasps both his hands behind him in response.

“It is unfortunate but Genji isn’t in the monastery at the moment. I can, however, guide you into the village where you can rest until the morning. I shall tell you then about where he is.”

It’s pretty shady how the omnic wouldn’t just tell him where Genji is but he probably comes off just as dubious. Besides, it was almost dusk. He’d probably just freeze his ass off if he refused.

  


-

  


The omnic, Zenyatta, guides him to Genji’s room in the village, leaves him with an orb floating over his head to “keep him warm” (it's kinda weird. Hey Genji, your monk friend kept me warm with his ball), and left to inform some people that he was staying over.

The room is pretty much empty save for a futon, some stuff he probably got after they raided the Shimada Castle (an old Shimada Clan robe, a painting, his old swords), a bunch of books, some furniture, and a picture frame with a candle on each side.

McCree takes the frame and studies the picture.

It’s an old picture of Genji and what seems to be his brother, Hanzo. He puts the frame back in its place, feeling like he’s violated Genji’s privacy. Sure, he’s seen Genji’s face before, he’s taken off his faceplate around him and he’d shown him the pictures he’s managed to salvage from various recon missions in Hanamura but this one was different. Genji isn’t around to actually share this with him. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on his thoughts when Zenyatta’s usual, monotonous voice resounds from behind him.

“Do not worry, I assure you, Genji would not mind.” Zenyatta hovers in front of the photo, metallic fingers ghosting the edges of the frame. “At first, he was rather adamant on not showing anyone anything; his face, his past, the troubles he keeps in his heart, but now he is a changed man. You will see once you meet him again.”

And with those words, Zenyatta went as soon as he came. McCree sighs to himself, eyeing the photo again. Genji looked so young. Looked so happy in contrast to his scowling brother. How did he feel upon finding this picture, seeing himself look so content with his brother, his almost murderer. He doesn’t know what he’d felt then but seeing the state of the photo now, carefully framed and displayed in a spot in his room where he could see it clearly, he’s sure he doesn’t bear any ill will towards his brother.

McCree himself, though, doesn’t know what to feel towards this Hanzo person. He hasn’t met the man himself, sure, but knowing that he’d been able to do something like that to his own brother, well… surely Genji would forgive him for his pettiness.

  


-

  


He’s not sure why anyone would willingly live in a place like this with all its numbing coldness and deafening silence but he guesses the view would be one of the reasons. The sunrise is gorgeous, even though it’s partly hidden behind the mist of clouds and snow, and early morning haze. It’s unnerving how Zenyatta seems to speak just as he roused himself to full wakefulness.

“I am glad to see you are already awake. Shall I tell you where Genji is or would you rather eat first?”

He turns around from watching the sun from the door, only to see Zenyatta facing the photo again. He coughs, cheeks dusting pink slightly. Ignoring the tiny bit of guilt he feels, he replies with nonchalance, “Thanks for the offer but I should really get going. I’ve packed some food, I can eat on the way down.”

Zenyatta finally turns away from the photo to stare at him, filling the space with dramatically blank air. “Genji is in…” he turns away, clasping his hands behind him. “Hanamura. May your travels be safe.”

McCree stares at Zenyatta’s retreating figure, in disbelief that a) Genji was in Japan,  _ in Hanamura _ , all along b) he hadn’t thought to look for him there in the first place, and c) that an omnic monk could be so dramatic. He wonders if he’d picked that up from Genji. He’d always have a flair for the dramatic, even though he always insisted that no, he wasn’t exaggerating, and yes, it was the only proper way to do said thing.

  


-

  


It’s 3 days later that he finds himself, finally, in Hanamura. Travelling as an internationally wanted “criminal” is a load of hard work and effort, which involves a lot of hitching rides on not so comfortable vehicles. There’s a permanent crick in his neck now and he hopes that he’ll finally catch Genji this time because he’s not so sure his body can take any more cross-country trips.

But of course, nothing ever goes well for him. He’s only been in Hanamura for like, an hour, when he stumbles upon Rikimaru, and after remembering that it was Genji’s favorite ramen joint, decides to check it out-- and that’s where trouble finds him: the store is being robbed. Groaning loudly, he pulls out peacekeeper and gets to work.

He shoots one of the robbers on the foot, kicking the next one on the shin, pushing him against the wall and knocking him out cold. He dodges a few misaimed bullets before returning one of his own. It hits the last robber on the shoulder and he drops down on the floor, crying in pain. It turns out to be a feint and the last robber runs out, attempting to use the shop’s delivery van as a getaway vehicle. Before he gets to the van, though, he fires at the man, another bullet hits him in the leg and he collapses, thankfully staying down this time.

It’s then that he hears the police sirens blazing, and based from prior experience, he doesn’t want to be around when they finally get to the scene, so he quickly flees towards the alleys.

“I suppose I would have to thank you for saving my favorite ramen shop but you did just desecrate my brother’s photo so I guess this makes up for that.”

The alleys are, of course, dark and mildly gross, littered with graffiti and other forms of vandalism so obviously, it wasn't where he’d expect to find Genji in but he does and the experience was mildly anti-climactic but his heart explodes all the same.

“Well, you know me. Jesse McCree. Desecrator of old photos, savior of ramen shops, at your service.” he replies, tipping his hat at where he assumes Genji’s voice is coming from. “How’d you know about that anyways?”

Genji laughs, glowing faintly just a few steps in front of him, the noise sounds much lighter than what he remembers. He sounds freer, no longer holding back his mirth at the foreignness of his voice, cackling unabashedly, and McCree finds himself laughing along just from the sound of it.

He's still out of it, still in disbelief that they're meeting for the first time in years and here they are, in a narrow alleyway talking about something so incredulously dumb. His heart swells with nostalgia, feels like he's coming home for the first time in forever.

“Master sent me a photo.” His confusion must’ve shown on his face because Genji laughs harder, steps closer to pat him on the shoulder. “Zenyatta emailed me a pic.” Another confused look from him earns him another giggle from Genji. “It's a monastery, Jesse. They’re not savages.”

He cocks Genji a sly smile. “Don't think I don't get your reference there, Genji. Still fond of quoting old movies, I see.”

He can't see it but he knows Genji’s grinning by the way his lights shine, the way he puffs out his chest. He's glad to see he still knows Genji’s tells, the knowledge fills him with pride and a deep sense of longing. How much of the Genji he knew back then is still there and how much of him has changed.

Genji touches his cheek, just a quick, faint brush of metal on skin, a gesture that was chased away by shy apprehension caused by years apart. By the guilt that he’d ran away all those years ago with nary a note about the why’s. The thought hurts McCree, hurts enough that he foregoes all reasonable thought and scoops Genji into his arms, wanting nothing more than to show him that despite the time, the distance, they're still them. That he understands why. That he doesn’t blame him for anything. That he regrets not trying to look for him earlier. That even after all that happened, his feelings haven't changed.

Genji yelps and stiffens in his hold, and like he's been splashed with cold water, he freezes. He's about to curse himself, gently put Genji down and apologize profusely when Genji laughs softly, growing in volume as he reciprocates the hug, nuzzling his faceplate at his neck.

He doesn't know how a simple gesture has him practically bursting into tears but his eyes are leaking. Like floodgates being opened to combat the drought.

Genji pulls away enough to wipe at his tears. “You’re still such a crybaby, Jesse.” he pulls off his faceplate, lets it drop to the floor with a loud clang. He isn't crying but big, fat tears are welling at his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

Unable to help himself, he spins them around, the both of them laughing and crying in a dirty old alley, of all places, but he couldn't bring himself to care less. As far as he's concerned, this was an Oscar winning moment. A reunion to beat all reunions.

“I‘ve missed ya too, honey.”

-

  


They’re in a dingy motel, watching an old Sci-fi Western from the early 2000’s on tv, making wild theories on how the world will be like at year 2517, when Genji suddenly exclaims a loud,  _ ah _ .

He pushes himself off the floor where he all but flung himself onto when Genji yelled from right beside him, crawling to the base of the bed but not quite climbing back up. “What's botherin’ ya, babe?”

Genji scoots to the end of the bed, not quite getting up, cheek resting on his palm as he taps his foot on McCree’s knee. “I know that we’ve decided to talk about everything in the morning but wouldn't it be better to talk to Winston now? I'm sure he's quite worried about you. You haven't talked to him since Nepal after all.”

He pulls Genji onto him, smsquishes his cheeks together and speaks in the most ridiculous Winston impression he can muster. “So Genji, are you with me?”

Genji cackles, eyes closing shut in mirth, hands coming up to cover his, and McCree swears his heart hasn't felt this full in forever.

“Only if you're with me.”

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~i live for misleading quotes.~~  
>  this entire thing was partly written as a belated entry for mcgenji week (where i thought reunion was day one, but whatever), and partly written as a joke-slash-counter of sorts.
> 
> title and quote thing suggested by my currently missing beta, may she rest in peace.
> 
> edit: now with [elaborate jokes](http://imgur.com/a/00a5t)


End file.
